


Giving Yourself Away

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hostage Situations, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-sexual knife play, Stabbing, Whumptober 2020, just a lot of threats in general, threat of castration, threat of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: Some of Aiden's fellow Cats have come to respectfully request that he accompany them back to the Caravan for the winter. And just in case he doesn't want to, they've found some leverage they can use.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 108
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Giving Yourself Away

**Author's Note:**

> For Whumptober Day 6 prompt, "Please."
> 
> Thanks to ladivvinatravestia for beta assistance.

Lambert should have been more on his guard, yeah, but the truth was that the prospect of an evening alone with Aiden had him thoroughly distracted. When he approached the abandoned barn outside of Vizima that they’d used for trysts several times now, he hadn’t been wary. That was on him. The other witchers had attacked as soon as he’d stepped inside. 

The fight had been embarrassingly short. Lambert didn’t even have a chance to draw his swords. He did manage to get a dagger out and stab one of the fuckers through the arm. But then they got him down on the floor and beat him until he knew no more. 

Lambert hadn’t really expected to wake up, but he supposed there had to be a reason they didn’t just shoot him full of crossbow bolts on his way to the barn. _And they're gonna be sorry they didn't._ When he saw the Cat school medallions on his captors, he started to have his suspicions about that reason. 

He lay on his side in the overgrown farmyard in front of the barn. His head ached, but nothing felt broken. The other witchers--four that he could see--paid him little attention. One was watching the road, another the woods, and the others were talking together nearby.

They’d bound him hand and foot, with his fingers tied too tightly to form Signs. They’d also relieved him of his weapons, armor, and clothes. Lambert couldn’t blame them for that. He carried enough concealed weapons that there would have been no way to ensure they’d found them all without stripping him. Worst of all, they’d shoved a cloth into his mouth and secured it with a rope. Fuck, not being able to taunt enemies was terrible.

Lambert heaved himself up onto his knees. If he was going to suffer the indignity of being held hostage, he at least didn’t need to do so lying in the dirt. 

“Wolf’s awake,” said the bald one. 

“Good,” said another, a tall witcher with dark hair, his right arm bandaged from where Lambert had stabbed him. “If we make him scream, Aiden might hurry it up a bit.”

“Kiyan, relax,” the bald one said with a long-suffering sigh. “We’re just here to talk. No need to piss off the Wolves more than we need to.”

“What’s the matter, Gaetan?” the other one sneered. “You afraid?”

“You don’t want the White Wolf’s attention, believe me.”

Kiyan spat on the ground, then turned to glare at Lambert. “This one doesn’t look like much. Wonder what the kitten sees in him.”

“He’s always had strange taste,” said one of the other Cats.

“Hey.” Kiyan came closer, close enough to bite if Lambert hadn’t been gagged, squatted down to look him in the eye and said, “You just stay quiet like a good little dog, and this’ll all be over soon.”

Lambert slammed his head forward into the stupid fucker’s nose, sending him tipping back on his ass to howls of laughter from at least two of the other Cats.

“Mangy little shit,” Kiyan snarled as he leapt to his feet, blood streaming from his nose. He kicked Lambert in the belly, knocking the air out of him, but Lambert was saved from any further abuse by Gaetan dragging Kiyan back by the arm.

“We need him alive, idiot. Or have you forgotten what we’re here for?”

“I don’t care,” Kiyan snapped. “He tries anything else, I’m gonna gut him.” 

To that, Lambert unleashed a tirade so filth-laden it required five languages to properly express. And if it was largely unintelligible through the gag, Lambert still felt he’d gotten his point across, as the Cats had all turned to watch him with various expressions of anger and concern.

“Sounds like you pissed him off.”

Lambert’s eyes snapped past the Cats to the witcher standing in the middle of the road. 

Aiden. His arms were crossed over his chest, his reins held loosely in one hand, and he stood with his weight on one hip, casual as anything. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, brothers?”

“Well, _brother_ , you’re not an easy man to find.” Gaetan stepped away from the others. “It almost seems as if you’re avoiding us.”

“Not very nice,” Kiyan said, and clucked his tongue. “Hurts our feelings.”

“You found me,” Aiden said easily, spreading his arms. “Here I am. Now what?”

“Now you’re coming with us back to Dyn Marv for the winter,” Gaetan said.

Aiden’s face fell into lines of cold determination. “No. I’m not.”

“It’s not a request,” Gaetan said. “The elders want you there, you’re coming.”

“You like this cur more than us?” Kiyan stepped around behind Lambert and grabbed him by the hair, saving himself from another headbutt. So he wasn’t a total idiot. “Is that why you’ve stayed away?”

“What makes you think I care about this Wolf?” Aiden’s posture was still relaxed, and he pointedly didn’t look at Lambert.

“Aiden.” Gaetan sounded almost disappointed. “We’ve been watching you.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but--”

Kiyan held up his dagger, then jabbed towards Lambert’s neck. Lambert pulled against Kiyan’s grip, but he didn’t have enough space to get his bare throat out of the way of the blade.

“No!” Aiden jolted forward, hand out to stop Kiyan.

Kiyan just laughed. He’d stopped his knife less than an inch from Lambert’s artery. He pulled back his blade. 

“Rather gave yourself away there, kitten,” Gaetan said. “Come on, we know what you’ve been doing. And we’ll forgive you. But you need to come home.”

“Please.” Aiden looked at Lambert, and met his eyes for the first time. “Please, leave him alone.”

“We will. If you come quietly,” Gaetan said.

“You’ll let him go?” Aiden asked.

“Sure,” Gaetan said. “Why not?”

“Welllll,” Kiyan drew out the word as he traced his blade down Lambert’s throat. “We don’t want him following us. Maybe we could make it impossible for him to interfere. What do you think?” Kiyan lowered himself to a crouch, keeping his tight grip on Lambert’s hair as he slid the cold edge of his dagger lower. “Bleed him out a bit? Break all of his limbs?” The blade dipped lower, to dance feather-light across the skin of Lambert’s soft cock. Lambert held very, very still. “Or maybe castrate him? That tends to deter people from pursuing us.”

“If you hurt him, you will not take me back with you." Aiden’s eyes were dark, the way they often got before someone--or more usually several someones--ended up bleeding on the ground. But then his expression shifted. He forced out a laugh, and then smiled mockingly. "You think if we leave him here, he’s going to catch up? Are you so uncertain of your skills in covering your tracks? Not much of a Cat, are you?”

Kiyan snarled, and Gaetan simply rolled his eyes and said, “Just tie him up for fuck’s sake so we can leave.”

With Kiyan’s knife at his throat, the Cats tied Lambert with his back to a tree, his arms stretched behind him, keeping his hands tightly bound to prevent him from shaping any Signs. At least they left his gear in a pile near the tree. He couldn’t reach it, but it’d be there when he got free. And he was going to get free and follow these Cats and kill the fuck out of them. 

The Cats mounted up, clearly eager to be gone. Aiden stood at his horse’s head, hemmed in by the other Cats, but looking back towards Lambert.

“Move, Aiden,” Gaetan snapped, nudging his horse towards the road.

“Get away from him first,” Aiden said, eyes fixed on Kiyan, who was still looking at Lambert with a hungry expression.

“Oh, come now.” Kiyan picked up one of Lambert’s knives from the pile of gear. He tossed it and caught it as he stepped towards Lambert, grinning. “He’s a witcher. He won’t break.”

Lambert glared right back at him as Kiyan dug the tip of the knife into Lambert’s skin at his waist, next to the groove where muscle met bone, delving into the flesh deep enough to scar.

Lambert gritted his teeth and didn’t scream out his pain. The bastard was right--he was a witcher, and he’d faced far worse pain than this. 

He thought he may have heard Aiden make an abortive noise of protest, but Lambert didn’t look away from Kiyan, who was leaning in close, and had his teeth bared in a delighted grin.

“This’ll improve your looks significantly. Really don’t understand why Aiden bothers with you. Ugly bastard, aren’t you?” 

Kiyan turned his attention to his work. He dragged the tip of the knife down in a straight line, pulled out, then started again. Drawing something in Lambert’s skin. Lambert looked down to see the knife moving near the crease of his hip, where Aiden would sometimes rest his fingers while he teased Lambert with his mouth. Blood trickled down the groove of the muscle.

“This’ll at least give him something interesting to look at while he’s on his knees for you. He is very good on his knees, isn’t he?” Kiyan looked up to meet Lambert’s glare and lowered his voice. “Yeah, how do you think he got so good? We’ve all had him. You know that’s half the reason the school wants him back.”

Kiyan began cutting again, Lambert kept his glare trained on Kiyan as rage boiled up inside him, blocking out the pain. He would rip this man’s throat out with his teeth as soon as he was free. 

His eyes darted towards a sudden movement, and he saw Gaetan and one of the other Cats holding Aiden back as he snarled. Gaetan was speaking quietly to him, but Aiden’s full attention was focused on Lambert. 

Lambert raised his chin and looked back at him, willing Aiden to understand, _Fuck ‘em. This is nothing. If I got carved up like this every day of the week, it’d be worth it, for you._.

“Well, that is an improvement.” Kiyan stepped away and tilted his head at his handiwork. 

Lambert looked down to see what he’d done. It was difficult to tell at first, upside down and with trails of blood dripping from the lines, but Lambert recognized it at last: a cat’s head, the one he’d seen on Aiden’s medallion when he tucked his head under Aiden’s chin and traced his fingers over his chest. 

“Remember, pup.” Kiyan tapped the bloody tip of the dagger against Lambert’s chest. “Aiden doesn’t belong to you. He belongs to us. So if you know what’s good for you, stay away.”

“Kiyan.” 

Lambert looked up to see Aiden mounted, his horse blocked in by those of the other Cats. His jaw was clenched tight, and his hand held the reins in a white-knuckled fist. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Aiden, Aiden, you used to be fun,” Kiyan sighed. “When did you get so boring? I didn’t hurt him.” Kiyan gestured to the cuts. “ _This_ would hurt him.”

Kiyan whirled and stabbed the knife into Lambert’s right arm, hard enough to go through the flesh and stick in the wood of the tree. 

Lambert choked on his scream. He wasn’t going to give this asshole the satisfaction.

“Get away from him!” Aiden tried to launch himself off his horse, but the Cats had him surrounded. One grabbed the back of Aiden’s jerkin and the other put a hand out to hold him in place. 

“For fuck’s sake, Kiyan, we’re in a hurry,” Gaetan snapped. “Leave the pup alone and let’s go.”

Kiyan gave Lambert a wink and a smile. He left the knife where it was as he walked away and swung up onto his horse. The Cats spurred their mounts, and sped off.

Lambert couldn’t even see Aiden go, surrounded as he was by the other Cats. He didn’t know if Aiden was trying to look back at him. He got no last glimpse of his face.

Lambert screamed and struggled in his bonds, scraping his naked skin against the bark and tearing further at the wound in his arm, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care. He had to get loose. 

He wasn’t sure how much later it was that he slumped in his bonds, wet-cheeked and gasping for air. 

Right, patience. Lambert would free himself, and treat these wounds. He didn’t need his sword arm in perfect shape for tracking. He’d find those fuckers, wherever they’d gone, and he’d get Aiden back, even if he had to kill every other witcher in the School of the Cat to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Join me for more Witcher ramblings on Tumblr, including me screaming about Lambert/Aiden: [brighteyedjill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/brighteyedjill).


End file.
